Narrow rivers
by Melguld
Summary: Roslin Frey swore that she'd never met anyone like Edmure Tully. And she had never regretted one single moment of it. Edmure x Roslin, modern AU.
1. Prolouge

It was an unusually hot afternoon in May; the sun had scurried all the skies and the people away from its sizzling rays. The whole of London was practically melted from the intense heat of an early summer, but the smell of rain had been in the air all afternoon.

What a weird weather, Roslin Frey thought to herself as she unlocked the gate to the humble block of flats where she lived and passed the grey and now completely dried out patio. She went through the stairwell door, which was wide open due to the intense heat, and unlocked her mailbox. As usual, it was filled to the brim with obnoxious commercial pamphlets and smaller magazines; the only important documents were her bills and the standard public announcements – the rest were received via e-mail. The old-fashioned elevator had broken down more than two weeks ago and there hadn't been a mechanic to fix it yet, so Roslin went up the usual four flights of stairs to reach her flat. She felt a bit lightheaded and out of breath when she made it to the green, flat door. With yet another key she finally opened the door and stepped into the medium sized flat. Already before the door behind her slammed shut, she knew that she had forgotten to turn on the air conditioner when she left the flat in a hurry that morning; the floorboard and the light blue walls were absolutely scorching after being directly exposed to the sun.

"Shucks!" Roslin muttered annoyed under her breath and plopped her bag onto the nearest armchair and began taking her beige sandals off. At first she had bought a pair of high heel black leather sandals, but she soon found out that they were impractical and way too warm and they were now comfortably seated in the corner under the coat rack.

The bills were put on top of the tasteful kitchen counter and Roslin went barefooted into the bathroom where she involuntarily let out a sigh of relief; the cool temperature of the blue-tiled room was extremely liberating. She opened for the tap water and splashed the nippy water onto her face and felt instantly refreshed. She had never found huge temperature changes desirable as almost every season of the year she was hindered by illness or allergic reactions. Her father had once told her sniggering that it was her mother's Rosby genes that she had inherited. Roslin wouldn't know; she had never known her mother as she had died of eclampsia when she was in labour with her fourth child, a little baby boy, who was stillborn. A year later, when Roslin was four, Walder Frey had found himself a new wife who was young and so inexperienced with children that Walder needed to hire a nanny. Luckily, Roslin didn't remember much from that part of her life and she already knew back then that she could find help and solace in her two older full-blooded brothers, Perwyn and Olyvar. The rest of his children, all her half-siblings, were already adults and had moved away, though some had stayed to maybe persuade Walder to make them his heir to the enormous fortune the Frey-family owned. If he ever died she would only get a small percentage of the fortune; the largest amount would go to his some of his firstborns who were born by some woman he survived and perhaps tolerated. He never tolerated her mother – that he told her too with an utmost delight – and he only ever saw Roslin as a pretty, gullible thing he could torment. A small sob broke the everlasting silence of the flat and a handful of salty, lukewarm tears stung her eyes before falling down.

"I'm letting the heat and dehydration get to me – that's all," she whispered hoarsely to the wall, in a weak attempt to calm herself, "I have to stop thinking such silly things!"

But they weren't at all silly; they were just as true as the fact that her pale hands shook violently and that her mouth was impossibly.

She realized now that she had at some point sled down on the squeaky clean tile floor, sitting in an awkward position in the tight space between the transparent shower curtain and the toilet.

Roslin rose slowly, but surely from the bathroom floor, walked past the kitchen and into the living room where her favourite instrument was placed beside a light green sofa. She picked up the dark brown violin, which had been a birthday present from her oldest brother, and tugged her chin under the chinrest. She let the violin bow stroke the strings once, before beginning to play one of her favourite pieces: César Franck's violin sonata in A major. The well-known tune soothed her frazzled nerves and frustrated mind immediately and her fingers loosened and pushed down and then let go of the strings in the correct order. She let her eyes flutter shut and she moved in time with the powerful music, which flowed in her body like a river current. Music was her salvation in times of fear and loneliness, which consequences she was very familiar with, growing up as a Frey.

The anxiety, that had stiffened Roslin's body, was as good as gone when she finished playing, flustered and gasping for air.

Chilly darkness had devoured the flat. The lights from the street cast strange shadows on the walls around her, gradually growing and flickering then disappearing in an abundance of colours. Her chest was heavy with melancholy and she let herself fall down on the armchair which was in front of the panorama-like window. Roslin felt like she was suffocating in the air of the room and she was on her feet again.

She opened a window and the stuffy living room was filled with a mixture of the smell and sound of petrol and people. The Thames had never looked more peaceful in her opinion; everything reflected in the silky-looking surface and though she knew it was extremely dirty and contaminated, she genuinely wished at that moment that she could jump in and flow all the way through London. Her lips formed a sweet smile when she remembered the happiest days as a little girl; her brothers used to take her out swimming at the local swimming bath and cheered her on as she moved elegantly through the blue chlorine water as if she was born to do only that. Sometimes it seemed so rational that Roslin would actually believe it.

* * *

**AN:** _Hello there! This is my first published fanfic, so I'm quite nervous about the whole thing, but please leave some constructive criticism if you want to!_


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: **_Well, hello there, and let me just start by apologizing for taking so freaking long to update this fic. I don't really have a good explanation other than working and being lazy! But I have found out that if I stare at the document for a long time I eventually start writing! I wonder if anyone feels the same! Hahahaha!_

_Anyway, thank you all for the reviews and for following or marking this story as one of your favourites! It really helps a lot and motivates me to write more, even though it takes half of a human's life to do so._

_I know that Strand College doesn't contain the medicine department, but I felt like it would fit better into my story._

_But, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and leave a review if you want!_

* * *

"Are you ready to order?"

Roslin woke from her daydreaming. "Oh, no, I'm waiting for a friend, thank you." The waitress with the exhausted smile nodded understandingly and strode off. Roslin continued to smile shyly by herself and resumed her reverie, drawing circles with some leftover water on the table.

She began looking repeatedly to her right where her trusty iPhone was placed on the table and then back to the panorama window. She had chosen a table under a huge and noisy air conditioner and, thankfully, wasn't dirty even though they were only two waitresses on duty. Finally, the phone vibrated and Roslin was quick to open its lock. A new message had been received.

"Coming soon. Traffic jam. xoxo"

Roslin texted a simple "ok" and a smiley afterwards, just to clarify that she wasn't irritated at her. She scrolled down a text conservation she had had with Olyvar, who was in town and wanted to see her before going back to Bath to their father to discuss the prospects of Olyvar moving to London to pursue a career in acting which he had been talking passionately about trying for quite some time. Roslin really hoped he could convince Father; it'd be nice to have family close by to talk to, she thought. They had a good and strong relationship and as he was only two years older he made a great confidante; better than most of her half-sisters, but Roslin would never say that aloud. She looked up from the little screen and eyed every person who stepped into the café carefully.

At last, a very beautiful, young woman stepped gracefully into the café and took off her huge, expensive-looking sunglasses, while looking around for a familiar face. Roslin waved as discreetly as she could and the woman smiled brightly and walked down to the table. Margaery Tyrell was still smiling, but she was clearly affected by the heat, because she wore a skimpy, blue dress and matching ballerina shoes (instead of her usual high-heels) and her long, light-brown hair was scraped back in a bun.

"Hey, Ros!" Margaery exclaimed happily and reached out her right arm to hug Roslin.

Roslin rose from her seat. "Hi, Marge," she said, her voice muffled by her friend's shirt.

Roslin recognized Margaery's favourite perfume; a lovely, but intense smell of roses as they hugged for a few seconds. Roslin sat down again and the other girl put her expensive bag and smart phone on the table.

"Did you take the bus over here?" Roslin asked her in surprise to clarify her earlier text.

"Yeah, I'm not taking the car anymore, because of that exact traffic. At first I thought this weather was refreshing and actually fitted the season," she sat down with sigh and stretched her slender arms above her head shortly, "but this is just clammy and disgusting!" Margaery smiled faintly."Oh well, you can't have it all, can you?"

Roslin smiled too and nodded in agreement.

"How are you doing?" Margaery asked suddenly after a moment of silence, tilting her head to the side and grabbing Roslin's dainty hands.

"I'm fine, thank you," Roslin answered a bit flushed by her friend's action, though it wasn't unusual of her to act this apprehensively."Nothing much has happened since we last saw each other."

Margaery turned to the side and began ruffling in her bag, looking for something."Any news from your dad?"

Roslin froze. She had blissfully forgotten the sudden invitation to her father's fourth wedding to another rich, young woman she had never met. After some quite serious panic attacks from the procrastination, Roslin had declined politely as the ceremony was in the middle of her summer exams. She was a bit relieved actually; every wedding or baptism in her family was an unhappy and speedy event, because Walder Frey was never truly looking forward to any of it. He only ever wanted the money. He had told her that himself.

"No, he hasn't replied yet. I'm sure he'll be angry with me, but I have no choice." With those words Roslin felt painfully petty-minded and heartless; her younger half-siblings had probably been looking forward to seeing her again after a year.

Margaery let go of her hands and Roslin in eye."He can't force you to come, right? I mean, it would ruin your chances of getting your undergraduate degree!"

"I just hope he'll let me have it," Roslin sighed and shifted uncomfortably, "Can we please talk about something else, if you don't mind?"

Margaery nodded understandingly. Neither of them changed the subject for a while though and Roslin kept torturing herself by thinking about what could happen to her education after the wedding. Would he really cut it short, as Margaery had guessed? It was in the end he who paid for her flat and her expensive education. That was a calming thought; at least he didn't want her to end up in the gutter, she supposed unintentionally sarcastic.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another waitress who looked tiredly at them, waiting for their order. Roslin quickly ordered some fresh lemonade and two glasses. The waitress marched away and another air conditioner behind Margaery started to let out artificial breezes.

Roslin tried her best to smile again. "What's up in the restaurant? Any luck with that promotion you were talking about?"

Margaery's smile faded and she let out a deep, agonized sigh before beginning to explain:

"No, unfortunately not. I think my boss has been whispering false things about me to the CEO, which can't possibly be good for me. Of course, he's going to listen to her, because she is his freaking daughter! What's with the immense nepotism?! And now I'm getting more and more certain that she is trying to kill me! Really! The other night she shot me a look that could throw knives when I talked to her brother. I didn't even start the conversation; he flipped his golden locks and almost forced me into a corner. Afterwards she threatened to fire me if I spoke to her family without asking permission! That's absolutely impossible when her family practically owns the place! Oh my God! Not many people piss me off, but she really sets my teeth on edge!"

She sighed deeply again, leaned back in the leather-clad seat and freed her hair from the hair band, rustling in it a bit with her fingers. Even though she had been complaining snarly, but quietly, some people had turned their head towards their table to see what the commotion was about. Margaery sent them a sugar-sweet smile and then pointed her finger at Roslin and said determinedly:

"You'll have to promise me that you'll write my eulogy and call the police on that crazy bitch when I'm lying in a ditch somewhere!"

Ros couldn't help but smile at her friend's dramatic plan. Though, Cersei Lannister did sound like a horribly spoiled and pretentious woman that could do anything to anyone because of her wealth and good looks. Roslin decided in that moment to avoid ever meeting her.

"Of course, Granny thinks that I should get her back for all the humiliating things she's done to me, but I would rather wait it out, make her believe that she can trust me, if only a little bit, and then strike back in the sneakiest way possible, do you know what I mean?"

Roslin wasn't quite sure what she meant, but nodded anyway to please her. She often never knew what the cunning brunette was up to when it came to outsmarting the opponent in a political game of power, which now had become her own working place. Margaery was considered by most people to be the ultimate prima donna, because of her rich and privileged family background, but to those who knew her well she was considerate and kind, though she was hard to read at times and her statements and motives could have different meanings. When she was told that, she said that it fitted someone who studied political science on a high level.

The smiling waitress arrived with a jug of lemonade and two tall tumblers. Already before noon, people were beginning to seek shelter in the cafés and restaurants. The whole street of eating places must've earned thousands of pounds on cool drinks alone.

"Thank you very much," Roslin said to the waitress who left the table as even more people were trying to enter the café. Roslin turned back to Margaery. "I hope it's okay that I didn't order any food for us."

"I don't mind. I'm not hungry anyway – especially not in this heat. I've been eating out since my cousins moved in and practically raided the fridge. They're making such a mess that it's horrible to live there and now the humidity in the place is suffocating; Granny refuses to open any windows or doors, because it disturbs her so-called 'thinking space'. Maybe she's planning an assassination with all that thinking?"

"Well, I hope not," Roslin commented knowingly, "she would be far too good at that." Margaery's grandmother had been a politician of the Parliament for more than 30 years, still having some trustworthy contacts and of course her everlasting sassiness so a well-planned murder seemed quite plausible.

"So, speaking of drama," Roslin began, pouring some lemonade into the tumblers and handing one over to Margaery, "how are you and Renly?"

Margaery lifted one eyebrow and put the cold glass to her lips, "Oh, you know, same old, same old. On one side it's like he isn't interested in a relationship, or in me in fact, and now that I think about it, we don't even spend that much time together; he's always out and about doing God knows what. On the other side he feels like giving me attention when he's been neglecting me for some time, almost as if he is repaying me," she stated nonchalantly and a mischievous smile tugged in the corner of her mouth. "Sometimes I think he might be gay."

Roslin almost dropped her drink in shock. "Oh!" She frowned so much that her dark eyebrows nearly touched. She had no idea how to comprehend that statement. "Oh."

"I mean, he can do whatever he likes, but I think that should happen when you're single, right?" A flicker of uncertainty crossed her features and then her light brown eyes met Roslin's darker ones."I don't know - maybe I should just give him some more time, before jumping to conclusions about him cheating on me."

Roslin was still in part-shock, but managed to croak some reassuring words out, when Margaery looked at her expectantly."Yeah s-sure, he probably isn't cheating on you; there must be a more logical explanation. I'm sure there is." There was a small moment of awkward silence as Roslin tried to calm her thoughts. She jumped halfway out of her seat when her phone vibrated.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed in shock and picked the phone from the table and made stop vibrating.

"What was that?" Marge seemed amused by Roslin's confusion and then shock.

Roslin bit her lower lip and ignored her fast-beating heart. "Oh, that's just an app I installed that keeps track on my uni schedule and lets me know when I have classes. I'm just testing if it's working, really."

"That seems useful! Maybe I should have a look at it. Can you send me a link later?" Margaery asked and finished her lemonade.

"Yeah, sure," Roslin answered absently, not sure she'd remember it by the end of the day. She looked at the wristwatch on her left wrist and began to scramble her things together. "It seems like it's working! I better go now; I have a lesson in 20 minutes!"

"Oh, Ros," she said as if she had only just remembered, "do you want to go out tonight? It's just going to be me, you and Jeyne and it's nothing big - call it a pleasant and relaxing conclusion to the week."

Roslin noticed the almost pleading tone in Marge's voice and, for a short moment, she remembered the last she was invited to paint the town red by Margaery; it was a Thursday night in November and Margaery had invited two of her guy friends to party with them in a very popular club - needless to say it was a wild and unforgettable night where they had to drag two grown-up, very heavy men back to Margaery's place. Her grandmother wasn't exactly pleased with the situation the young women (who also had been drinking) had put themselves in.

Roslin had forgiven her a long time ago, but there was always a nagging feeling in her stomach every time she thought about it; it could've gone terribly wrong that night.

"Yes, of course," Ros said before she could stop herself. She tried her best not to look nervous by looking away for a short moment and readjusting the bag strap on her shoulder. "When do we meet?"

Margaery swung her hair over her shoulder and smiled sweetly. "Great! I'll come and pick you up at 9 o'clock tonight, is that okay?"

"Sure, I'll see you then." She didn't sound as enthusiastic as her pretty friend, but Margaery didn't seem to mind; she went in for a hug and promised that it would be fun. It was at least Friday and she hadn't been with both Margaery and Jeyne for a long time. Before leaving they exchanged goodbyes and once Roslin jogged over to the stairs leading down to the Underground, she thought nothing bad of their agreement anymore.

* * *

Roslin arrived at Temple Underground station and walked down the burning sidewalks and avoided collided with other people who seemed in a rush. It only took her two minutes to walk to the university. She went into the small park which led to Strand College where people were sitting and enjoying the sun and talking delightfully with each other. Perhaps she could find the time to do some relaxing.

"Roslin," someone called behind her and she recognized the deep voice and rough accent. Turning around she saw that Robb Stark had parked his bike up against the building and was now looking at her.

"Oh, hi Robb!" Her usual awkwardness and shyness intensified whenever he was around, though he never picked up on her infatuation with him and she doubted that he ever would.

Robb's arms encircled her shoulders in a short and friendly hug, but Roslin felt like it was the appropriate time to crawl down into a deep hole.

When he let her go and took his original position, she smiled strained at him. For the first time that day she looked into his blue, honest eyes. The amount of times she had looked into them and wished that she had the courage to find out if he knew about her true feelings about him! Most of the time she would push them aside, thinking that it could never happen. They treated each other like friends, nothing more.

Robb was an honourable and charismatic guy, a bit naive sometimes, but generally really nice towards everybody; that meant that everybody liked him or at least admired him for his everlasting patience and tolerance. Margaery had told her that he had dropped out of the same political science classes she took, though he hadn't told Roslin that; she assumed he was ashamed of his lack of interest in politics, something his father wasn't talented in either, but wanted his son to pursue a career in. Instead Robb had begun studying medicine at the same university where Roslin was studying music. He was the one who had sought out her, though she never bothered to ask him why, and soon after they starting hanging out together, purely platonically.

"It's been a long time; how are you doin', Roslin?" She could listen to that Scottish accent all day, she thought, sighing discreetly. She especially liked the way the 'r' in her name rolled on his tongue.

"Um, I'm fine, thanks. A-and how about you?" Her foot began to sleep and Roslin realized that she was very anxious.

"That's great. I'm fine too, thank you," Robb said, sounding like he genuinely cared for her well-being.

Robb pushed his black-framed glasses up his nose and pointed to the magnificent building behind them with a thumb."Were you going inside?"

"Yeah, yeah," Roslin said breathlessly and followed him. Thankfully, the building was equipped with lots of air conditioners even though it was designed to look like an old palace with Roman statues and marble stairs. They started walking down the very elegantly decorated hallway with multiple tree archways which led to each department of the university.

Robb turned to her and she tried not to look down in shyness. "You know what? Yesterday I went down and tried to buy a smaller air conditioner, and do you know what the clerk said to me?" he asked her expectantly, already smiling.

She shook her head and grinned at his contagious smile.

"He said that every linen shop all over London had been emptied for air conditioners! Can you believe that? It rains more here than back home!" He laughed heartily and Roslin laughed with him and they laughed until they reached the medicine department where Robb studied on his third year. He had been in the political science department with Margaery for a year, but she had told Roslin that he had never actually cared for it and then dropped out. Roslin hadn't asked him why; some said that he had disappointed his father by doing it, but she hated to pry in private matters. They waved goodbye and Roslin went further down the hall, a little more spring in her step; she was absolutely thrilled to see her friend content again.


End file.
